


Say Om

by maggs689



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Yoga, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22924408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maggs689/pseuds/maggs689
Summary: Travis doesn’t start going to yoga for the hot guy with the stupid tattoos on the next mat, but that's why he keeps going.
Relationships: Travis Konecny/Nolan Patrick
Comments: 31
Kudos: 401





	Say Om

**Author's Note:**

> To the hot guy in my yoga class: thank you for never wearing a shirt.

Travis doesn’t start going to yoga for the hot guys. I mean, he _keeps_ _going_ because of them, but in the beginning he goes because he’s starting to feel out of shape. It doesn’t hurt that the yoga studio is across the street from his office and the class is only $8. It’s a hot yoga class and the whole place smells like a moldy gym sock, but it’s the cheapest class in the city.

But yeah, he _keeps_ _going_ because of the hot guys - one hot guy in particular, actually. The tall one, with the man bun and the perma-scowl. The one that has the dumbest tattoos that Travis has ever seen and seems to take this practically free yoga class way too seriously. 

Travis ends up next to this guy during his first class and, halfway through the hour, he’s so lightheaded that he just gets down into child’s pose for like, 10 minutes straight, until his breathing evens out. He’s not even sure if it’s the heat. It might be the hot shirtless guy - did I mention that he’s shirtless? - stretching on the next mat.

Travis goes back the next night. He’s wearing gross gym shorts from his Catholic high school gym class and, when he sees the hot guy in his Lululemon men’s yoga shorts, he starts to think that he’s going to have to get some non-embarrassing yoga clothes if he’s going to come here all the time. Travis doesn’t get the spot next to the hot guy, but he’s able to keep him in sight most of the class, except when he’s in downward-facing dog and all the blood is rushing to his head.

By the next week, Travis is going to yoga four nights a week after work. Fridays are still for drinks with the boys, but otherwise at 7pm, it’s yoga time. Travis gets the spot next to the hot guy most nights because he gets there early. And sometimes, when he’s lying on his mat in the heat, waiting for class to start, he looks over and the hot guy is putting his mat down right next to _him_ , even though there are other spots available.

Travis starts to get better at yoga, the muscles in his arms popping when he flexes in a tank to show off for Kev and the mushy part of his stomach firming up under his fingers. He doesn’t feel slightly ashamed when he takes his shirt off for class anymore. It’s actually less hot this way. 

He still sweats a fuck ton, but it’s a good sweat. The hot guy sweats less than he does and manages to look like he’s glowing while he does it. One day in class, Travis watches a drop of sweat slowly make its way down the long, toned line of the guy’s back while he’s zoning out in warrior II. He’s so close - the class is packed and the mats are especially close together tonight - that he could just lean forward and lick the sweat off of the hot guy's back. But then the instructor tells them to cartwheel their hands down and travel through their flow, so he doesn’t.

Travis works on working up the nerve to talk to the hot guy. He shoots the hot guy a wry smile during chair pose when the teacher tells them to smile to relax the muscles in their faces, like _yeah right, can you believe this_ but also _I might die soon if you don’t fuck me_. That gets a confused frown from the hot guy, but it’s a start. The next class, he gives the hot guy a casual eyebrow raise/head nod in greeting. That gets him a quiet _hey_ back. It’s something.

The next class, fate smiles on him (or he stays in savasana long enough after the ringing of the Tibetan singing bowl - _yes_ , go ahead roll your eyes) that he sees the hot guy by the shoe cubbies after class. He wipes the sweat off of his face and says _good class_ just loud enough for the hot guy to hear him. Travis fiddles with his shoes and then hears the hot guy say _yeah, kicked my ass though_ in a deep voice. Despite being completely devastated by that hot-ass voice, Travis is able to respond _me too, thought I was going to pass out in camel_. The hot guy nods knowingly. Travis isn’t sure how to get out of this conversation now that he’s in it - because he’s going to say something stupid, 100%, if this goes on for one more minute - so he just says _ok see you later_ and heads for the door. 

Two days later, he’s spending most of the time in extended side-angle on the right side staring at the hot guy’s butt. It looked good earlier, when class started, but since the hot guy has been sweating there’s a _cling_ to the shorts that is just...well. Travis is trying hard not to get hard, is the issue. Anyway, he’s coming out of the pose, taking a second after his vinyasa to wipe the sweat off of his face with the special yoga towel he bought to go with his new yoga shorts, when the hot guy catches his eye. The hot guy cocks his chin toward the woman in the row in front of them and mutters _what’s up with that_ before stretching back into a downward-facing dog. The hot guy is talking about the woman - she’s in every class - who is doing her own wack-a-do yoga class in the middle of this _actual_ yoga class. Like, she’s standing on her head while everyone else is in warrior 1 and by the middle of the class, she’s lying curled up in a ball in the middle of her mat, possibly sleeping. She also grunts a lot. 

Anyway, next time they’re hopping to the front of their mats for a forward fold, Travis whispers _she paid $8 for this nap_. When he inhales for a half-lift, he looks over and the hot guy is smiling at a spot two feet in front of his mat. His cheeks are also red - redder than usual, the room is heated to 105 degrees fahrenheit after all - and Travis is so proud that he caused that smile. Later, by the shoe cubbies, he says _I’m Travis_ to the hot guy as he slings his mat strap ( _yes_ , he bought a mat strap at Lululemon too) over his shoulder. _‘m Nolan_ , the hot guy, Nolan, mumbles and holds his fist out for a bump. Travis tries not to smile like the fucking sun in response.

Now that he knows the hot guy’s name, he can’t stop using it as an excuse to talk to him. 

_Tough one today, Nolan_

_Sorry for knocking over your water, Nolan_

_Oh look, Nolan, it's Erica today_

_Sorry for accidentally caressing your hand when we were doing cactus arms, Nolan_

That last one wasn’t an accident, but I know you knew that. 

Pretty soon after that, Nolan doesn’t come to class for like, a week. Travis doesn’t want to admit it, but class sucks without Nolan there. Like, obviously it’s better that he isn’t distracted by Nolan’s abs but Nolan’s also really good at yoga. It’s been helpful to have someone to watch and model his poses on, plus keeping up with Nolan is helping Travis build his stamina. He’s actually pretty good at yoga now, although he’s nowhere near as flexible as Nolan, and _that_ is a thought for later.

But a week later, Travis walks into class and there’s Nolan. He’s cut his hair short and he looks less like a grungy hipster dude and more like a salesman, but it still works on him. From the doorway, Travis sees a girl go to put her mat down in the spot next to Nolan and, without seeing Travis see him do it, Nolan tells the girl he’s saving the spot for someone. Eventually Travis regains feeling in his body and he heads over to the spot in the far front corner, but as he passes he hears Nolan say _hey man, you can go here_ and gestures toward the spot that he saved. For Travis. That’s a thing that’s happening now. 

Class hasn’t even started and Travis is already in a dead sweat. As Travis settles on his mat, he hears Nolan cough and he looks over. Nolan rolls his eyes at him and says _cut my hair_. Travis sits back on his heels and smiles. _I see, bud._ Nolan nods, mutters _my sister got married_. Now Travis is nodding. _Yeah, well_ , he says, straightening out his towel, _looks good_. Luckily class starts right then and Travis can use the deep breathing in child’s pose that they do to start every class as a way to cover up for the fact that he’s hyperventilating. 

A few days later, Travis is lying on his mat before class when he hears Nolan clear his throat next to him. He looks over to where Nolan is sitting, arms around his knees and staring straight ahead. _What’s up, bud?_ Nolan slides a water bottle over to him, says _you forgot water_. Travis sits up to look and sees that Nolan has his own Sigg water bottle and a bottle of Poland Spring that he bought for Travis. _Thanks, man,_ Travis says, nudging Nolan’s shoulder. _Like_ , Nolan starts and then pauses an unbelievably long period of time for a normal human, _if you had my number you could tell me if you needed something, like if you forgot your water_. Don't try to figure out the logic in that one. It doesn’t make any sense but Travis doesn’t care. This dummy is so hot and he wants Travis’s phone number. 

Travis texts Nolan the next morning, just a picture of a pigeon carrying a plastic knife that he saw in the subway station and the caption _me omw to work_ but after that they’re texting pretty much all the time. It turns out that Nolan works for Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS in their development office. He has an Instagram full of pretentious shots of the sunset and a cat named Peaches. He’s 24. Unfortunately, he’s a Virgo. 

Travis goes to yoga five days that week and, after class on Friday, he and Nolan go out for a drink at the loud bar two blocks away. Travis hasn’t stopped sweating since class, even though he showered, and he’s sure that his hair is plastered to his head. But Nolan, who just spent the last hour scowling at a yoga instructor that was only trying to get him to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth, smiles the entire time. He admits to Travis that he hasn’t been on a date in a while and Travis practically explodes from joy at that. They take the subway back to Brooklyn together - Nolan gets off near Carroll Gardens and Travis stays on until Ditmas Park - but before he gets off the train, Nolan leans over and kisses Travis, just for a moment. If the train broke down now, Travis could run home with how excited he is.

It's only a few days before Nolan is inviting Travis out for dinner at this really cute brick oven pizza place on Henry Street and then back to his apartment to _I don’t know hang out or whatever_ , which is what Nolan mumbles at his shoes as they stand awkwardly outside the restaurant after dinner. It’s still light out as they walk over to Nolan's place and Nolan stops to take a picture of the sky, pink over the buildings at the end of the block. Nolan’s apartment is small, a studio with a small alcove kitchen and a surprisingly comfortable bed that folds out of the wall. They lie on it and share a joint, watching the smoke curl up toward the ceiling fan, and then they make out for a while, until Nolan kicks Travis out because he has a board meeting the next morning.

Travis finds out that Nolan is actually his boyfriend when he hears Nolan buy a coconut water ( _one for me and one for my boyfriend, please Erica_ ) from yoga teacher Erica after class a few weeks later. Erica always makes them do yogi push-ups and Travis really hates her for that, but he does smile when he passes her on the way out and she whispers _boyfriennnnnd_ at him and waggles her eyebrows. 

So yeah, yoga class turned out to be a pretty great idea. Travis has really increased his strength and his flexibility, plus his legs and his core are so jacked that his running has improved too. His posture is better and he’s really mastered deep breathing, which really helps when he’s on a stressful sales call at work. 

Oh yeah, and there’s the hot guy, who’s now _his hot guy_ , the one who’s looking at apartments with Travis next weekend. They’re thinking of moving all the way out to Bushwick, and they might be able to afford a two-bedroom there. They saw a place last weekend that didn’t have nearly enough windows for Peaches or counter space for Nolan’s cooking experiments. But one of the places they’re looking at this weekend is across the street from a yoga studio, and if that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is.


End file.
